


Only One Light

by wirewrappedlily



Series: With Nothing Left [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek's been taken prisoner to a death ring, Drug Withdrawal, Hurt Derek, I promise it's not as painful as it sounds, Kidnapping, M/M, Thoughts of Suicide, Violence IS mentioned, angsty but fluffy, fight to survive (non consensual though), it's actually kind of fluffy, link in the notes, not graphically detailed I don't think, sequel to I Need Both My Hands, stiles has taken over the New York Commissioner's posisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was blood on his hands. There was always blood on his hands. In his hair. Splattered over his chest. Sometimes it was his; most of the time, now, it wasn't. </p><p>There had been a life before this. There had been--</p><p>No. </p><p>He couldn't think of what there had been, couldn't bring those thoughts here, couldn't dirty them with his blood-stained hands. </p><p>There was blood on his mouth. It had made him sick. So sick for so long he'd stopped screaming because the bile had burned him too badly, so sick that he didn't know if he could speak or scream now. </p><p>There was blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only One Light

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "I Need Both My Hands (To Hold My Own)", in honour of the ten-thousand hit mark I've managed to pass. That's huge for me, I am so thankful I can't even tell you. Link here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/568341
> 
> I hope you enjoy, my freaky darlings.

Stiles Stilinski-Hale woke up on his forty-fifth birthday with his daughter in the kitchen downstairs making him coffee and his mutt of a dog between his arms. 

He woke up knowing that his dad and his dad's husband, Jeff, would call and come for dinner that night to 'surprise' him. He woke up feeling small and utterly alone. 

Because he woke up with the bed cold behind him. 

Derek had gone missing almost a full year before. No ransom; nothing. Stiles, Commissioner of New York where his step-father had given up the title to be with his dad in Beacon Hills, had torn the city he'd known and loved apart looking for his lover; his husband; his mate. 

"Da, stop dwelling." Mira chastised quietly, slipping in with his favourite mug steaming between her long, delicate hands. Mira was Derek's daughter by Mirari's egg, the empath happily carrying their little girl to term, would have carried a child of Stiles's if it could have been done. Stiles didn't care; Mira was Derek's beauty, but, oddly, his, too. Long limbs, a sharp, upturned nose, eyes a kaleidscope of colours, cheeks high and sharp, skin pale and dappled, hair black. Thankfully, she'd inherited her mother's eyebrows along with her penchant for knowing a person's thoughts--Stiles's especially--just by looking at them. 

"I can't, baby." Stiles sighed sadly. Mira made a small, wounded sound, putting the coffee down desperately and wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug, dislodging the dog and letting out a sub-sonic noise of warning when he protested at her. "I miss him so much." Mira could easily break puny, human him: she was a born wolf, the same as Derek. Mira pecked Stiles on the cheek, rubbing at the other with her thumb even though the tears were streaming down Mira's face. 

Stiles wrapped his arms up around Mira, pulling her in and cuddling her close, "I miss him, too, Da." Mira murmured, tucking herself into her father's embrace. Stiles hugged her tight, curling around her. "Downstairs pancakes are waiting with bacon and whipped cream and powdered sugar...tonight, there'll be presents, and a surprise. Not just Grandpa Jeff and Gramps. That's not a surprise anymore. Hush, you." 

Stiles snorted, shaking his head. "Love you, little sparrow." 

"Love you, too, Da." 

"Are you going to make me wear a suit?" 

"The answer to that is technically no, because it'll be someone _else_ making you wear the suit." 

"Not Lydia?!" Stiles jumped a little, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed like a chipmunk on Red Bull. 

Mira laughed, shaking her head as she wriggled out of his grasp, ducking down and pecking his forehead. "You'll just have to wait and see!" She sing-songed, ducking under Stiles's grasping hand and running, squealing as Stiles sprung up after her and gave chase. 

"YOU GOT AUNT LYDIA FOR ME FOR MY BIRTHDAY!" 

Mira's laughter rang through the house, the dog grunting at the insanity of the pair of them from his new spot on the couch. 

Just for that, Mira woofed softly just to get him upright and alert. She ducked back upstairs before Stiles could chastise her for it. "I forgot my coffee, sparrow!" 

"Down in a minute!" 

~

There was blood on his hands. There was always blood on his hands. In his hair. Splattered over his chest. Sometimes it was his; most of the time, now, it wasn't. 

There had been a life before this. There had been--

No. 

He couldn't think of what there had been, couldn't bring those thoughts here, couldn't dirty them with his blood-stained hands. 

There was blood on his mouth. It had made him sick. So sick for so long he'd stopped screaming because the bile had burned him too badly, so sick that he didn't know if he could speak or scream now. 

There was blood. 

~

The thing that no one had expected of Stiles was that he had been born to be a cop. Being Commissioner had tied his hands in many ways--and loosened the bonds in a few. 

He ran the supernatural division of the Force directly, headed up everything; and when a bust on a supposed ring of dog-fighters turned up were-fighters instead, Stiles was the one that walked into the interrogation room, and walked out with bloodied hands and haunted eyes. 

"Get me Mirari, don't tell Mira." He ordered through numb lips to his right-hand man, Jensen Marcobs. He didn't even have it in him to watch the man walk away. 

Within hours, Stiles had created a council of war. 

Mira looked on from where she'd come to drop off Stiles's late lunch of salad because she was just as heart-conscious as he had been for her father. 

The deputy that had been escorting her to his office turned as she shrugged off the arm, staring at the conference room with glassy eyes at her father's head, just visible over the frosting on the glass walls. "There's only one thing in the world that would make him look like that," Mira breathed. She dialled the number and raised the phone to her cheek with shaking hands, "he found him." 

~

He had been dead for...god, it must have been for lifetimes. _Must have_. He'd been in blood and darkness and death for lifetimes. 

The lights always hurt. The bullets tore through flesh and bone even if they would heal. The roar of human throats never breached the rings. 

At first, he fought. 

Then he fell. 

~

Jeff hadn't been in his old office for a very long time. "There are some who aren't going to be happy about this." Stiles told him, "I don't give a flying fuck."

"I have your back, Stiles: always." Jeff told him gruffly, nodding once. His own husband's--Stiles's father's--hand was tight around his, his features fierce. 

"I'm bringing down the entire operation. Salt and burn." Stiles told him. "The Mayor; congressmen, senators…"

Jeff nodded, leaning back, "You're a little young to retire." He quipped when Stiles looked like he'd start to shake apart.

"Just old enough to make history, though. Bringing down an entire crime syndicate with both supernatural and human ties for every crime--" 

"If you can't lock 'em down, snuff 'em out." Jeff nodded, his free hand pinching at the neat press of his trousers. His husband let out a slow, heavy breath; and he loved him, because Caleb still wasn't used to the way things were dealt with in the night. 

The knock on the door was barely preceding Jensen bursting in, face pale and eyes huge, "Sir, the rumour...it was true." 

"He's…" 

"Alive, but unconscious. One of the medics has been sent to your house to meet the team taking him there." 

Stiles was up and in motion with Jensen sprinting beside him, "Not the house, I'm taking him to the fortress, med can check him quickly here and then I'll take it from there." 

"Sir--" 

"I'm going off the grid for a while, Jen, I expect you to kick ass and take names in my stead. If you need me, call…" he thought of what was awaiting him and swallowed, "don't need me." 

"Sir...reports said he was feral." Jensen told him desperately. 

"He was kidnapped and held prisoner in a death-ring. They forced him to fight, to kill. I'd be more worried if he wasn't." 

~

He was in...in a bed. 

He was in a bed, in the cool dark, and there was a familiar smell to it that wasn't blood or piss or pain or death. It made something in him buckle, threaten to snap. 

"I really wish you'd be Derek so I could climb into bed with you and never ever get out." A voice said from behind a door with a small slash of light peaking under. He knew the voice. Or he had once. "Getting you clean took some doing, too, and let me tell you now how ridiculous your abs are--still! You're fifty-two for fuck's sake! You're supposed to have let yourself go! I'm not supposed to pop a boner at the sight of you like I'm sixteen again!" 

He wanted the source of that voice. He wanted...he wanted to put the blood and the death and the pain away.

"I love you, sourwolf. Come back to me."

He wanted to. He just didn't know how. 

~

Stiles sat cross-legged in front of the wall of colours Laura and Derek had painted, looking over the pictures proudly displayed there. They'd added pictures to the wall slowly over time. Derek and Laura in the centre, Stiles's graduation, both their mugshots taken with a camera that wouldn't pick up the glare of Derek's irises. Mira, Lydia, Isaac, Stiles's father's wedding, and Stiles and Derek's own. 

Derek had been so angry when they'd found out Stiles couldn't have children. He'd almost talked himself out of using his own sperm when Stiles had hit him over the back of the head and told him in no uncertain terms that he wanted Derek's kid, wanted him to have a kid more than Stiles had ever wanted one of his own. Stiles was tempted to talk Derek into another by the time Mira had hit grade one, but Derek had wanted a little Stilinski more than he'd wanted a little Hale, and having a kid had satisfied Derek's instinct to breed, he didn't care. They were happy together; and when the time had come for children, it'd been Derek's instincts that had pushed them over the threshold of whether or not to have a child. Derek's wolf wanted a cub, and Stiles had known that before Derek would loosen enough to admit it, and had agreed without a qualm. Stiles couldn't imagine a life without his little girl, but if it hadn't been in the cards for them, he wouldn't have cared. Mira was their little angel, and Stiles had loved her with his whole heart from the time she was the size of a grape. Derek had been scared of being a father, for as much as he'd wanted to be. Had been scared of what it'd do to his instincts, what it'd do to their love. He hadn't wanted things to change between them at all: loved waking Stiles up in the morning with kisses along the back of his neck, revelled in allowing Stiles to nudge him into cuddling close and reading to him. Alone, Stiles and Derek had made a name for the pack that had brought them relative peace for over twenty years. With the addition of Jeff's pack, they were almost untouchable. 

That was why Stiles hadn't understood it how Derek had been kidnapped; how he could be alive, but not come back. Now, with the toxicology report between his hands, he knew. 

Wolfsbane-laced drugs had been a problem. Meth, Ex, Oxy. If memory served, Derek had been put under by the 'zombie drug', with a low enough dose of wolfsbane that the drug wouldn't have had its full potency. Making him susceptible, making him easily ordered, but, in some small part of himself, aware. Most victims never remembered a thing; some died because there hadn't been enough shock to their system on withdrawal to bring them back. 

Before they'd reached New York and the safety afforded the Hale siblings there, Derek told him, once, about something very similar to the fight rings Stiles had just taken down on his behalf. Had told him that it had been necessary, at the time, but it'd nearly cost him. He'd wanted to die, to a point; he'd wanted to be gone. So he'd shut off. Stopped feeling anything, and the only reason he hadn't stayed there or died was Laura. That was a two-week period; they'd had him in this one for a year. 

Stiles turned his head, listening as the old baby monitor registered Derek moving. Stiles ached to go to him; to touch him, hold him, kiss him. He wanted to see Derek, almost didn't care that Derek wouldn't quite be his Derek. 

Stiles groaned as he stood up, rubbing his backside and laughing at himself. "Hey, old man, let's get some food into you." Stiles called down the hall, testing if Derek would know what words meant as much as he was testing to see if Derek would be capable of working the door, unlocked but firmly closed. 

After a long moment, Stiles went down the hall and opened the door himself, forcing fear down and fighting himself not to cry in relief. Seeing Derek standing there, naked because Stiles had had to bathe him clean, made Stiles want to fall into Derek's chest. It ached at him, as Derek stared at him, everything in his eyes dulled away. 

"Derek, come eat for me?" Stiles asked quietly, his hand extended out to him, the tremor of fear beaten back even though Stiles felt like he was about to shake apart. "Can you?" Derek knocked Stiles's hand away, looming over him with murder in his features. Stiles didn't miss a beat, baring his throat and angling his eyes down. Derek snarled, his claws extended and slicing through the air as he butted his chest forward against Stiles, not hard enough to knock him back, but hard enough to startle Stiles out of that particular plan of attack. Stiles turned his head, baring his human teeth and yanking Derek's head to the side, setting them over the side of his neck, wrapping his arms around Derek's shoulders as the wall of a man shook and crumpled to the ground, taking Stiles with him. As a mated pair, Stiles was technically an Alpha, too, and Derek submitting to him like this meant Derek knew Stiles was his mate, was trying to tell Stiles he knew. Stiles used his grip on Derek to press himself hard against the solid heat of Derek's chest, hugging him like it hurt to be anywhere else. Derek's arms threaded around him, his nose buried in Stiles's hair, scenting him in great lungfuls, possessiveness rolling off him. "I missed you." Stiles whispered. 

Derek rumbled, then outright purred as Stiles's fingers found the grey in his temples and ran through his hair. Stiles knew Derek needed to eat; that withdrawal was going to be bad, doubly bad because he'd been drugged for so long. Jensen had told him that the best they could figure, Derek had been grabbed because he was the most powerful Alpha in America. "The Mayor's been arrested. Half the politicians in New York, countless low-levels. Three ADAs. There's a good chance two law firms are going to crumble completely; we got enough of the boards on both that they're on extremely shaky ground. Alan and Denny are coming in from Boston to help us try the case. They wish you well." Stiles murmured, "Those we can't try for the human crimes, we're black bagging for the supernatural ones. I'm burning this city to the ground for taking you away from me." 

Derek made a wounded noise, nosing into his pulse with tight fistfuls of the bottom of Stiles's shirt. Stiles shivered as Derek's lips pressed sloppily to his collarbone, his grip on Stiles's waist almost painful. Stiles pressed kisses to his forehead, his cheeks. Tears began to run down Stiles's own, relief and fear and everything he'd held together as the days turned to weeks turned to months. Stiles rubbed his face on Derek's neck, in his hair, cheek against cheek as he pressed against Derek as hard as he could like he could meld them permanently. Derek rumbled in approval, putting his mouth to the base of Stiles's throat and biting a mark there, claiming him as Derek's. Stiles ran his head through Derek's hair in a slow pull, encouraging Derek's head back and to the side easily and making his own mark on Derek's throat, one Derek wouldn't heal. "You've gotta eat, Derek, or I'd let you keep scenting me. C'mon." Stiles tugged Derek upright, standing firm when Derek tried to resist. While Derek could throw him around the room without breaking a sweat, Stiles knew, especially with Derek's wolf running the show, that he'd never get hurt by Derek's hand. Derek was dominant, yeah; but it was up to Stiles to make the decisions of their relationship--all Derek ever did was give him choices. "You have a pack and a daughter to come back to, too, Derek; and while I'm more than happy to put up with your wolfy ass, I think Mi would be far less amenable to the cuddle-monster. She is, after all, an 'adult'--and, yes, I will use air-quotations; I will do that until I'm dead because she's our baby." Stiles pulled Derek upright, leading him into the kitchen. 

Derek was forced into a seat, watching Stiles walk around into the kitchen like he was a kicked puppy. "Something easy…" Stiles clapped and rubbed his hands together, grinning at what he knew Derek would say about him cooking, "I already made some food, so none of that complaining that nothing I make is easy." 

Stiles started music up, loud and cheerful; exactly the kind Derek would sneer at him for, as much as he liked watching Stiles shake his ass to it. Derek watched him avidly, just watching. He didn't seem to mind the music, and Stiles stored that information away for later. 

Derek was not coordinated enough for utensils like this, and Stiles didn't really care; Stiles carding his fingers through Derek's hair as he wolfed the food down, growling lowly. "I think this is worse than that Thanksgiving you played seven hours of football and didn't eat until eight at night. Remember? You almost choked on a turkey bone, gave me a heart attack. Or the night of our wedding. I thought you were going to get tipsy on the champagne even with your super werewolf powers." Stiles told him, leaning down to kiss the back of Derek's shoulder, hushing gently when Derek picked up the speed of his eating like a child promised they could play after eating their broccoli. "You were so stupid that day, Derek. Made me nervous about the temperature of your toes. I thought you were having second thoughts; you weren't eating, you hadn't slept--I know you, babe, you can't deny it--and you were so antsy. And then I was at one end of an aisle and you were at the other and you just looked so...relieved. Like there was something that'd been taken off your shoulders." Stiles's arms wrapped around Derek from behind, his chest pressing into his back as his fingers trailed through Derek's hair, "You were so damn nervous about marrying me. I almost took it personally, but Lydia would've had my head. I think we should get married again when you're better. No one watching, no one who could hurt us there. Just you and me and the moon, Derek. I wouldn't even make you come up with vows.

"We should probably give you a bath when you're done, though, big guy. You're a _mess_." Stiles laughed in Derek's ear, brushing his lips against Derek's jaw, "I'll even get in there with you. So long as you let me get you clean, too. None of that snapping at me like you did on our honeymoon." Stiles nipped his ear sharply, laughing again, and Derek growled. "We had a full three weeks without the pack or the supernatural interrupting...I thought we were both going to go out of our minds with some cocktail from hell of boredom and misplaced aggression. You threw me over your shoulder after the fifth day, and I don't think we really touched any articles of clothing for the rest of our honeymoon. We just...read and watched movies and had so much sex I thought I'd have to have a week of recovery before I could walk again." Stiles nuzzled into Derek's hair, breathing him in. Derek pulled Stiles into his lap, rumbling as he folded around Stiles. "Yeah, Derek. I'm here and I'm staying. You're staying with me." Stiles told him, rubbing his ear idly, "I'm never letting you go again, you adorkable idiot." 

~

His mate was more fragile than he was. He had to keep a hold of that, had to remember it. He'd claimed his mate, and his mate had claimed him; and as fiercely as he wanted to take his mate, there was something that held him back. The hands in his hair, on his skin, were stirring up something he'd thought dead. He pressed his face into the beating heart of his mate and took comfort there. The buzz of words he distantly knew was utterly soothing, and there was a tenderness in him that he'd never known. He wanted to curl around his mate, peaceful and sleepy and slow, because he was safe with his mate. 

There were words on his own tongue that tasted strange; familiar, but not. There were things in his head that made him feel like he was about to be hit from every direction, and as much as he didn't want to fight back anymore, he was scared of the blow landing. He was being choked, held down by nothing, and there was something coming for him he knew would flay him open to the core, but he couldn't fight. Not anymore. 

~

Stiles settled with Derek in his arms, the bath too hot for him, but holding Derek in the steaming water made it better. "You still weigh a tonne." He complained quietly, poking Derek's calf with his toe, "And I'm a little amazed that you're letting me be the one to hold you, Big Bad. You're not being crazy-protective, I guess that means you feel safe, huh?" Stiles hummed, "Good." 

Scrubbing his hand through Derek's hair, Stiles pulled it off his forehead, the wet of his hands helping to slick it back. Squeezing Derek's hips with his thighs, Stiles ran his teeth over the shell of Derek's ear and his hand down Derek's chest, touch firm as he rubbed down the hard muscles. "I used to hate that you healed so entirely. Now, there's nothing I'm more thankful for. I know that you killed everyone who hurt you, and I've bagged and cuffed everyone else. I just wish I could've stopped it sooner. I wish there was more I could have done. I don't know why this wasn’t on our radar before you disappeared. I'm so sorry, Derek." Stiles was beginning to get choked up, Derek's hand curling tight around his knee and a distressed noise in the back of his throat, "It's okay, Derek. I just missed you...so fucking much." 

Two hours later, Stiles padded to where Derek was sitting in front of the wall of pictures in a pair of sweats and a thin shirt, Stiles breathing deep the steam from his cup of coffee. "Do you remember the day I told you I wanted to become a cop instead of finishing my journalism degree? We had a fight...god, we must've been at it for two days. You wanted me as far from the line of fire as you could get me, so you argued _everything_ you could think of to stop me from going to the academy. And now I'm the commissioner, though I don't think I'll remain the commissioner for very long. Not with this big of a shake-up. And I know you're gonna be mad when you're back to being you, but I hope you'll be a little bit proud, too." Stiles trailed off, staring blankly at the picture of Stiles grinning in his beat cop blues. "We moved back to Beacon Hills after the academy, after Jeff and Dad got married...and we both got that itch for more. You couldn't be out of the line of fire any more than I could, sourwolf. You're very, very bad at taking care of yourself, you know that?" Stiles reached down, hand open in an invitation, "Come on. No more floor-sitting, old man. If you're going to be mine again now, I'm going to take care of you. You're going to be like one of those fat, lazy house cats that doesn't even have to chase the mice, my darling predator. And I give you full permission to spank me for comparing your future to that of a feline's, but only when you're in your right mind and something can come from it." Stiles waggled his eyebrows, grinning as Derek stood up like he wasn't quite sure how his legs worked anymore, letting Stiles tug him along to one of the huge couches and going easily when Stiles collapsed down, laying over Stiles like a blanket. Stiles grunted as he reached for the book he'd picked out, soothing Derek down even as he did, arms tight to keep him there. He flicked the quilt from off the back of the couch, splaying it over them easily enough and twitching it into place as he finished arranging them comfortably. 

Stiles began to read with Derek's forehead tucked against his neck, his voice rising and falling with the familiar story as Derek just laid there, breathing and listening. 

Stiles's phone went off with an email alert not long after both he and Derek had dropped into an early-afternoon nap, Stiles snorting himself awake and nearly falling off the couch he twitched so violently. Huffing, Stiles slid out from under Derek fully, narrowly not-falling to the floor in the process. Derek watched him with unfathomable eyes, still more blank than Stiles would like, but secure enough not to have trapped Stiles there. 

When Stiles picked up his phone, he did a double take of the message waiting for him, dialling before his brain could fully process what Jensen had just sent him, "What do you mean that this was federally protected, Jen?!" 

"Sir, I'm sorry that I've had to send this to you, but it's come down from on high. The feds are demanding the release of everyone we've taken into custody, and they won't fill in why." 

"Jensen, these idiot cunts came into my city and stole my husband. They are protected over my dead body--now, you will put me on conference with these motherfuckers and for the sake of your ulcer, turn off your own connection. It will be that bad." Stiles turned into Derek, pulling his head down until it rested in the crook of Stiles's neck, his huge hands wrapped tight around Stiles's hips and the distress in Stiles's scent making him edgy. "Gentlemen! I'm sorry I'm unable to be there in person." Stiles grit his teeth at having to be political. "I'm told that the recent arrests made by the New York police force in relation to an underground death ring are stepping on federal toes. Let me make myself perfectly clear: I don't give a damn. This city is my city, and anyone within the confines of this city who has the sheer idiocy to commit a crime and leave me the evidence to prosecute will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do I make myself clear, gentlemen? I am police commissioner of New York, and as such, it is my job to ensure the law is abided." Stiles locked down as a snappish voice accused him of going solely for revenge. "So it's to my understanding that you _knew_ my husband, who has been a missing persons for a year, was kidnapped by them…" Stiles's breath shook as he blew out, his eyelashes fluttering. Colour flooded his cheeks, the tips of his ears, "Gentlemen, you're under arrest for accessory after the fact. Pick your poison, boys: cuffs, or black bags?" 

Stiles snapped the phone closed, hissing with rage, but Derek was nosing at the back of his neck, a small whine in the back of his throat. "It's okay, sourwolf." He breathed, turning until he could put his mouth to Derek's, hugging him close. "See? Nothing's wrong, I just have more idiots to throw in jail than I know what to do with." Stiles sighed, nudging Derek back towards the couch and curling up in Derek's lap this time, letting Derek check him over by touch, "Mira's going to be pissed that I've found you and haven't let her come. Even more pissed that I sent a police escort home to watch her." Stiles brought Derek's hand up to his face, leaning his cheek against Derek's palm and meeting his uncomprehending eyes. "The pack doesn't know yet. Well, that's a lie: they probably got a call from Mi, so there will be a small ambush awaiting us at home. But we're not going home until you're back, Derek, so come back! Come back to me, please? I love you so much. I always have, you know that. So come back to me. Be my sourwolf again. I know you think I can talk endlessly, but I will run out of words eventually, and I'd really love it if you'd kiss me quiet like we're back home and you just want some peace for a few minutes before dealing with Scott being a parent." 

Stiles lost his grip on the distress, pain and fear threatening to crush him, and Derek pushed him down into the cushions, pressing into his chest hard and growling steadily, a low bass that amounted to a promise to protect him. Stiles fell asleep with Derek boxing him in on the couch, pressing himself into Stiles's chest trying to get across that he was there, that everything would be alright because the Alpha was there, and would protect his mate with the last breath in his lungs. 

~

He was stalled just short of breaking through, and he'd never be able to at this rate. He was torn apart in a wholly new way; he almost missed the blood for with the distress this caused. He couldn't heal this, and it was so evident that his mate felt the pain of it, too. Or the pain of something like it. The wolfsbane was working its way out of his system, the drug leaving him screaming in its wake, and he didn't want his mate to see him so weak; to see that he needed the poison in order to be strong now. He was the Alpha: no one was supposed to see him brought so low. 

~

Stiles tugged on Derek's hair as he sweat and shook in his sleep, his claws extended into the mattress on either side of Stiles's waist and his fangs run out. 

"It's a dream, Derek. You're safe, it's alright--you're just dreaming." Stiles chanted quietly, "Derek, I'm here. I'm here, you have me. You don't have to have bad dreams anymore. Remember...Remember when we first got together? And I didn't even know...I was so in love with you, and it was killing me to have you so close but to not have you, Derek. It's not killing me anymore, 'cause I know what it's like to be without you. I know...I know there's bad. I know there's a lot of bad, and it's going to try to drive you nuts, Derek--and if you never really come back, I'll always love you anyway, but just hold on. I'm here, I'm here with you and we're safe together. You're not alone--I'll never leave you alone again if you let me. Just come back." Derek snarled, snapping his jaws, and Stiles whimpered in fear, unable to help it. Derek threw himself off the bed, across the room, roaring as he did, and Stiles forced himself to choke down his fear, standing up and raising his hands, a sign of peace. "Derek?" Derek roared again, the sound hurt and angry, and Stiles blinked back tired tears, "Derek, it's okay: you didn't hurt me. Come to bed." Stiles inched towards the shivering werewolf, hands extended and heart in his throat. Derek flinched away from him, half-hunched to the floor and hiding his face in shame. Stiles bit down on everything else he was feeling, striding forwards and pulling Derek around, biting down on Derek's neck before baring his own, Derek's arm fitting around his waist before he could be knocked off his feet, forcing Derek a step closer to keep them both upright. 

Derek whimpered, pressing his lips to the underside of Stiles's jaw before he simply gave in to the embrace, hugging Stiles close while he shook. 

"Come back to bed, Derek." Stiles ordered, inching them back. Stiles pulled out of Derek's arms and slid into the bed, pulling Derek into him the moment Derek was on the mattress. Falling back against the pillows, Stiles offered himself up for Derek to see that he hadn't been hurt, as much as he could smell it. Derek tucked his face against Stiles's shoulder, hiding still, and Stiles flipped him onto his back, throwing himself over to straddle Derek's waist and stare down at him in the half-light. Dropping down, Stiles pressed open-mouthed kisses to Derek's jaw, over the line of his neck, hands possessive on the bottom of Derek's ribcage as he licked and sucked at Derek's shoulders and chest, biting into his side and soothing his tongue over the red marks. Derek flinched and shuddered under him, hands hovering unsurely until they fell to the bed and clung to the bedclothes, a moan tearing out of his throat. Stiles raised himself up, kissing Derek with abandon and grinning into it as he felt Derek's arms wrap uncertainly around his waist. "Love you, you idiot." Stiles breathed, nuzzling into the definition between Derek's pectorals and grinning to himself. "You're ridiculously pretty for an old man." 

"Not so old." Derek croaked, his voice startling Stiles, though the small jump he managed to get out of his husband was more due to Derek's thrusting upwards than to his voice. 

"Derek?" 

"Hurts, Stiles." Derek managed, and Stiles knew it had nothing to do with their arrangement here; it had everything to do with the tension in Derek's neck, the clench of his fingers into fists that Stiles was sure were piercing his claws through his palms. 

"Derek, it's gonna be okay. It's going to be really hard, and it's going to hurt, but we're together: we can get through it." Stiles promised on a whisper, littering kisses over as much of his husband as he could reach in a total frenzy. "You can let go if you need to, babe, I'll be right here to bring you back." Stiles rested over Derek's madly beating heart, and Derek groaned--almost roared--arching under him as his eyes flashed crimson and his fangs extended for a moment, the snap of his jaws coming with a transformation back. 

"Stiles, I don't know…"

"Is it the instincts?" Stiles whispered quickly, breath catching as Derek grit his teeth and nodded. "Then stay and give in to the instincts, Derek, it's okay. It's either give in and be you, or be able to function a little better and be blank." Derek nodded confirmation. "Give in, then, Derek, I love you, it'll be okay." 

Derek shifted him with shaking hands, "No more kissing." Stiles met his eyes then nodded, trying to hold back a pout Derek could read anyway, "Don't want to _mount_ you. I have to calm down." 

"Okay, Derek." Stiles whispered, amenable as Derek laid him down beside him, tucked in tighter than he'd been in a long time. "It's going to be okay now, Derek." Stiles promised, brushing his hand over the tense muscles of Derek's stomach, hugging him close. Derek grunted, sighing into Stiles's hair, drowning himself in the scent of his mate. 

~

He barely recognized himself. Shaking too hard to shave, he fought with himself if his mate would be able to do it without the sight of the blades making him lose control. It felt almost like failure when he decided he couldn't, but then his mate grinned at him, sharp and loving, when he walked away from the reflection he barely knew, and scrubbed his long, nimble fingers through the beard obscuring his face, teasing in a soft voice about his looking like a mountain man. He'd never hurt his mate, but he couldn't let himself risk it, either, so the beard would stay until his hands stopped the tremoring. 

His hair had never been this long, though, and it annoyed him in a big way until his mate tutted at him, sitting him down and telling him to close his eyes and breathe. The _snick_ of the scissors had to be drowned out by the steady beating of his mate's heart; by his ridiculous words. When his mate started the clippers, he was able to answer again; able to ask if his mate could keep doing what he was doing to distract him while he got rid of the beard. He was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek when his mate was done, his eyes startled open when his mate sat on his lap facing him, legs splayed wide over his thighs. His mate was, above all, absolutely evil--he had to remember that. 

But, when those long fingers skirted over his shaven jaw, his mate was beaming as he told him, "There's my husband." And kissed any reply he could have had out of his mind forever. 

~

Stiles was running his hand through Derek's hair where his head was lying in Stiles's lap, the shudders rolling through him only soothing in that Derek was still there and alive, his soft sighs making Stiles ache with how much he'd missed him; how scared he'd been. 

Detox was never easy; and Derek had popped a small fever, shaking in a cold sweat while Stiles rubbed at his shoulders and back. Stiles wondered at the fog that Derek must've had to claw his way through to get himself so coherent. Derek groaned as he shifted and slid over to lay on his back, pressing Stiles's wrist to his lips sleepily. "You were kept safe without me?" 

Stiles nodded definitively, "Mira had a small run-in with the Arkansas pack early on, so your little human had to show them exactly how wrong they are for thinking a pack with the human of an Alpha pair is weak enough to overthrow. Jeff laughed until he cried." Derek snorted in amusement, closing his eyes as Stiles resumed his petting, "Got the Alpha to submit, shocked our daughter into silence, and put Scott's boys in line 'cause they thought the Alpha was gone so they could be little beasts. No one was surprised." 

"You're the strongest person I know." Derek muttered sleepily, nuzzling in to Stiles's lap. "Tell me...about the day Mira was born…" 

Stiles sighed quietly, still rubbing just the right spots to lull Derek to sleep, "There was a storm on the day Mira was born. We were in California to have her with dad and Jeff, and Mirari had wanted to see where we grew up. There was a snow storm the likes of which Beacon Hills had never seen before, or since, and Mira came out with her beautiful big eyes and her mop of black hair...and she was ours, the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen. You bought a tree the next day, and planted it in the backyard even though it was freezing and the ground was frozen solid. The whole pack came when Mira was let home with us. She was the most precious thing I'd ever seen, and you held me while I held her all night, just watching her dream. You fell asleep just before dawn with your head on my shoulder, surrounded by our family, and I'd never felt more...perfect. And when I take you home, it'll be just like that. Mi will curl up in her daddy's arms, because she's missed you just as much as I have, and the pack will come to make sure you're safe, with me. Dad and Jeff will fly here and run interference so that you and I can have some time alone...Mirari will probably slap you for scaring her like you did. Lydia will come bursting in to get all the ducks we didn't even know we had in a row, and Scott will tell you how I'd pined for you, how pathetic I was without you." Derek reached up and curled his hand over Stiles's, stilling his motion. 

"I was worse without you." Stiles smiled a tiny, private smile, picking up his petting again. 

"I know, sourwolf. You're always better off with me." Stiles teased. 

Derek smiled, bumping his head against Stiles's palm to keep him petting, "I should tell you about the day we got married. I was scared out of my mind that something would go wrong; that you'd be taken from me. It was worse, even, than the night I proposed. But when you came out...you looked so determined. And I know you: you wouldn't let anything go wrong, you'd kill anything that tried to. And I loved you even more because of it." 

Stiles bent to press his lips to Derek's forehead in a loose kiss, curling his arm under Derek's shoulders and lifting him up when Derek reached to meet his mouth with his own, Derek's hand hooking behind his neck and his tongue sliding between Stiles's lips. Derek slid up, sitting up and wrapping around Stiles's shoulders, his hand snaking into his hair firmly and holding his mouth to Derek's, the kiss demanding and decadently slow. Derek hid his face under Stiles's chin when the kiss finally broke, holding him desperately close. Stiles hushed him, comforting while Derek shivered slightly against him. "How do you feel?" 

"Weak. Shaky. I'm hungry, but I feel sick at the same time. I think the healing doesn't know what to get rid of first." 

"I'll make you something." Stiles's fingers curled around Derek's ear, rubbing with his thumb. Stiles tilted Derek's head until he could reach Derek's mouth, kissing him with all the care in the world. 

"I don't want you to go." Derek admitted, "I'd rather you lay down with me." 

Stiles sighed, tracing a finger around the deep shadow ringing Derek's eyes, "Something small, Derek." Stiles rubbed his hand over Derek's chest and down to his stomach, "You need your strength to get through this." Derek sat up, turning to Stiles and pulling him forward gently, wrapping around him as they kissed. "I love you." Stiles sighed. 

"I love you, too." Derek answered, resting his forehead against Stiles's, "Hold me tonight?" 

"I'll hold you every night forever, Derek, you don't even have to ask." Stiles scolded, slipping reluctantly away and going to make Derek something to eat. When they curled up in bed after Derek had ravenously eaten, Stiles pulled Derek into place, carding his fingers through Derek's hair and rubbing his thumb behind Derek's ear as he nosed hard into Stiles's chest and breathed as deeply as could, his hands fisted against the mattress, caging him in as if it was necessary. "I've always wondered how the hell you could stand to breathe around me when you'd sneak in and harass me after lacrosse." 

Derek rumbled happily, "You smell best when you've got gunpowder, sweat, and cockiness in your scent. Two out of three aint bad." 

Stiles laughed. "You're insane. And horrible. I can't believe you." 

"You know you smell good to me. If a little like Cheetos." Derek murmured with a wicked curl of a smile, "You smell like mate: like you're meant to be mine, all the pieces that make it home and everything I love put together. I was worried that Mira would smell like Mirari and I, and wouldn't smell like you; like she's a part of my mate. But she smelled like you from the night you first held her." 

"Poor girl. Don't tell her that: she'll blame me for ruining her social life." Stiles murmured sleepily, grinning as Derek grunted and roused only enough to pinch his side. 

"One father has a badge and gun and the other can rip any advantage-taking boyfriend limb from limb with his bare hands, and can scent sex. She had no real chance at a social life anyway." Derek laughed. 

Stiles grinned wider, sleepily pressing a kiss to Derek's forehead. "We're terrible parents." 

"Horrid." 

"The worst." 

Stiles sighed, letting his pulse come to the surface, knowing that Derek was listening to it avidly. Derek's nose traced along Stiles's side, kissing his nipple with a rakish smile. Stiles squawked shortly, flailing out and smacking Derek with his knee. Derek growled quietly, pinning his leg to the bed with a snicker, relaxing in a roll of muscle into Stiles's body. With a deep breath, Stiles made himself melt, too, his eyelashes against his cheeks as he evened everything out to a rhythm that would pull Derek under with him. Derek kissed over Stiles's chest, taking in and holding great breaths of him as he went, rubbing his nose under the line of Stiles's ribs, running his teeth over where age and time had softened Stiles from the whip-like litheness of his youth. Derek loved the way age had changed Stiles, filling out from being a teen to softening into an old man. He was still lithe and fast, but a few of his muscles had softened with a distinct lack of running for his life and fighting for his Alpha. Stiles had never been built like Boyd or Derek; had never even reached Scott levels of muscle mass, but Stiles could take Scott and even Erica in an arm-wrestle and had genuinely won once or twice sparring with Derek. He wasn't fragile, and he hadn't been maybe for as long as Derek had known him, his strength hidden in a trick of the light and gone completely unsung by Stiles himself; downplayed to the bone. 

"I should get back in shape, I know." Stiles chuckled. 

"No." Derek told him, palming over his hip, running his nose up and down the curve of Stiles's neck. "Doesn't matter to me, I like this. You haven't been running for your life, you're safe, so you can let yourself relax." 

"You don't have to run for life anymore. And you don't ever have to fight again for as long as I'm alive. I will keep you _safe_." 

Derek raised himself up enough to kiss him, hard and biting. Stiles grunted, kissing him, changing the kiss until it was languid and deep. Derek removed himself, laying against Stiles's chest again and relaxing there, "We were fighting. You didn't want to let Mira go too far for school…" 

Stiles held him tighter, a tear falling from the corner of his eye, "It was all my fault--" 

"No, it wasn't. You were stalked, kidnapped, and then married within your first year of leaving for college, and she's our baby. I should have remembered that. You were scared for her for good reason. You've protected her for her whole life, and letting her go...it was foolish of me to even think I could do it." Stiles hugged him close, tears choking him as he did. Derek shook, pressing his face into the tiny definition between Stiles's pecs, "Being without the two of you...I could never do it again. I love you both so much." 

"Stop it. Stop. No more." 

"I have to…" Derek choked out, "You have to know. When I left that night, it wasn't because of you, or because of the argument. It was my fault I was in a position to be kidnapped, Stiles, and it _wasn't you_. I was fighting myself to argue with you about it. Fighting to stop myself from begging her not to go, too. I've tried...I've tried for years not to crush the two of you to my chest, to keep myself from suffocating you because I want you to be safe. And you helped me so much. You stayed close and you let me keep you there with me so I could make sure you were safe. I couldn't let her go if you couldn't, and I didn't want to fight you about it. I lost my family by being stupid, and then this one, this beautiful, insane family that you've made with me...I couldn't risk losing it, too. I left to sort myself out the night I was grabbed. Never because of you." 

Stiles tilted his face up, pressing his thumb to the corner of Derek's mouth to silence him. "I love you so much, you idiot. And Mira knows. She knows it's hard for you. I know it, too. We love you, and we'll find a balance for you. For all of us. Trust us, Derek. We won't lose each other if we let each other in." 

Derek kissed him, letting Stiles's long, clever fingers massage at Derek's back and trace over his skin. Stiles's legs raised, slipping around Derek's waist until he was holding onto Derek as tightly as he could. Derek slid his arms tighter around Stiles, burying his nose in the crook of Stiles's neck as he did, closing his eyes. 

"How do you feel?" 

"Safe. Finally." Stiles's hand gripped Derek's hair, and Derek let out a gusty sigh, sobbing into his shoulder as what he'd done to survive and what had been done to him hit him, a kind of guilt rising up in his throat because he was well and truly safe in Stiles's arms. Stiles encouraged him to let it come, offering comfort without trying to erase the pain, knowing it was no good when Derek already knew that he'd done what he'd had to and had survived because of it. He didn't tell Stiles that he'd thought about just letting them kill him in the fight. That he'd almost given up on the idea of being free, of being brought back into Stiles's arms, back home to Mira and that clever mutt that only behaved for Stiles. He felt like he didn't need to. Stiles would know. Stiles always knew, in that way that he knew Derek better than Derek knew himself sometimes. "Laura Mirari Stilinski-Hale, you should not be trying to sneak up on us." Derek shouted through the door. He could hear Mira swear under her breath, and Stiles snorted underneath him. 

"I can't trust Jensen when it comes to her. He loves her more than he loves me sometimes, I swear." Stiles grumbled with a laugh. Sighing, Stiles convinced himself to let Derek go, kissing him softly, smiling at the look of understanding in Derek's eyes, speaking of how he'd rather not leave Stiles's arms, but how much he wanted to see his daughter now that he could. They got out of bed and put loose sweats on, Stiles going out first and hugging Mira tight. "He was feral, baby, or I would've brought you here with me." 

"Is he better?" Mira asked quietly, their little girl again. He eyes were shining with tears, her pale skin splotched with tears that had already fallen. 

"He's much, much better, but he's not quite back to himself yet. They drugged him, sweetheart, and he needs--" 

"He's going through withdrawal." Mira nodded, sniffling, "I just...I couldn't wait any longer." 

"Oh, baby, I know that." Stiles chuckled, kissing her hair. Derek emerged from the bedroom, shaking slightly as he saw his husband's arm wrapped around their daughter. He was over and pulling them both into a hug before the door even closed, Mira's gasp and the flood of tears released only curling them closer together, the family tucked tight and protective around each other in reunion. 

"Mira, I missed you so much." 

"I missed you, too, Daddy." She cried, hugging tighter to her parents. "You're safe. I love you, you're back." 

Stiles released them slightly, making it easier for Derek to inch them to the couch and sit down with Mira still in his arms, sobbing into his shirt. Stiles kissed Derek's hair as he passed for the kitchen, wiping a tear away that he couldn't have possibly seen, and Derek only held his little girl tighter, "I'm back, and I'm never going away again, angel. I love you, I'll never let myself be taken from you ever again." 

"I'll be stepping up security on him." Stiles told them jokingly, but Derek knew that it really wasn't a joke. 

Mint tea drew Mira out of her tears coaxingly, and Derek accepted his mug with swollen, red eyes. She refused to move away from him, though, and Derek was thankful for it; thinking he'd never get to see his daughter or his husband again had nearly killed him, having them both close eased the pain in his chest. "It's turning into a madhouse out there, Da. We've collected or black bagged everyone involved, and Aunt Lydia's reigning hell down from Washington on the upper-levels. Last I talked to her, she was thinking of just seizing the presidency since she's been having such fun with it." 

"She wouldn't like being in the seat of power, you never get to do anything. Tell her to be the one pulling the strings, though. That, she'd love." 

Mira smiled, watery but a smile, "She said you'd say that." 

"How's Jensen doing with the two-step?" 

"He's managing very well, I think. The feds you took into custody for accessory after the fact have found themselves rather hung out to dry, and the politicos underestimated Aunt Lydia in that she's had them admit to what they've made deals for, has gotten them to give up their cards, and has unearthed other ways in which to prosecute that slither past the deal they've made. Uncle Scott and Uncle Isaac have come down from Cali and are staying at the house. Gramps and Jeff are taking care of the boys while they're gone, but they both want to see you soon." 

Stiles nodded, sipping his tea, "Well, I'll be back when your father's ready, baby girl. And I'm half-considering making this my retirement, so I don't have to go to work and leave him home." Stiles grinned, Mira chuckling as she laid her head against Derek's shoulder. "Think we can make him sick of us before the week is out?" 

"There's a good chance." Mira laughed. Derek scowled at them both, shaking his head. 

"I'll go make your bed, baby." Stiles told her, rubbing her knee before heaving himself to his feet. 

"No, Da, I can't stay. I'm technically not allowed to be here. Uncle Scott didn't want me interrupting what ever you needed to do to get Dad on his feet." 

"You can stay, baby, Scott is not the boss of you. At all. In fact, he's barely the boss of him." Mira giggled, leaning into Derek's side. 

"No, I'll go home. I just want to spend some more time with you two before I do." Mira slipped her fingers into Derek's, laying her legs over Stiles's lap where he sat on the coffee table in front of them with a cheeky grin. "Remember how we thought it'd be Da that'd need extra protection?" 

"You're both horrible and wrong." 

"And horribly wrong." Mira agreed silkily. "Tell me how you two met." 

Stiles grinned, glancing at Derek. Every time Mira had asked them, they'd told her a different and more unbelievable story, and they'd made sure everyone else in the pack would, too. Agreeing silently, Stiles grinned and laughed, anticipating how Mira would react to the truth, "When I was sixteen, and your grandfather was sheriff of Beacon Hills, I kept a police radio to keep tabs on where he was and what he was doing, trying to make sure he didn't get hurt. One night, there was a report of half a dead body in the Preserve. And I, being the strange and trouble-making delinquent son that I was, went to your Uncle Scott's house and convinced him to come with me to look for it. Scott, because he's special and I'm his one true best friend, came along, and when we got separated, he got attacked by what he thought was some giant, rabid dog.

"It was your great-Uncle Peter, burned out of his mind and just newly Alpha, who bit Scott and turned him. Scott lost his inhaler in the dark in the woods, and his asthma was so bad that I had to bring him back the next day so we could try to find it. And out of the ruins of the Hale house walks tall, dark, and grumpy, telling us to get off his property, and tossing Scott his inhaler. And that was how I met your father." 

"I actually met your father much, much earlier than that, but he doesn't remember. Your Aunt Laura was a volunteer reading buddy for lower grades, and because your Da was so hyper, she read to him quite a lot--you got your talent for reading from her, Mira--anyway, one day, he had to be maybe five, so I would've been...well, an older and bigger kid, anyway, Laura caught some bullies picking on him, so while she took him to safety, I stepped in." Stiles was staring at Derek, open-mouthed, and Derek smirked, never having told him that before. 

"That's how you knew I hate strawberry ice cream, isn't it?!" 

Mira laughed, "So, wait, is that how it really happened?" 

Stiles nodded, "He told me to get off his property, and saved my snot-nosed little life." Derek snorted, tugging Stiles in and kissing him softly with a wicked grin. 

Mira made a gagging sound at the sight, so Stiles pulled her in and blew a raspberry against her cheek, making her squeal and try to bat him off before Derek started tickling her, letting Stiles pin her down by being a deadweight. 

"You two don't play fair!" 

"Never said we did." Derek laughed, kissing his husband's hair and pulling an arm around his daughter in a hug. 

"I demand to be read to by my father while my da braids my hair." 

"You have never been that bratty." Derek muttered. 

"No, but I am now because we have making-up-for to do." 

"I'm not sure that sentence made sense, but okay." Stiles agreed laughingly. They arranged themselves accordingly, Mira sitting on Stiles's feet on the floor while he brushed out her jet hair over his hands. Derek watched for a long moment before he pulled himself to start reading the ancient and battered copy of Winnie the Pooh that Mira had insisted on, the familiar story pulling him back to when his little girl was seven and Stiles would help do Piglet's voice to make her giggle. 

It wasn't the full pack by a long shot, but it was the two most important people in Derek's pack, and it eased him a little bit to be safe there. 

When Stiles finished braiding Mira's hair, Derek laid back on the couch, laying his head in Stiles's lap and reading that way for a little while as Mira curled up with her head on his stomach, slotted between his legs and the back of the couch with her legs covering his. Stiles contorted, snagging a blanket and throwing it over them as much as he could, petting through Derek's hair in a sleepy rhythm until Derek couldn't hold his eyes open any more, Mira asleep on his stomach and Stiles falling away with his head propped on his hand. Stiles smiled a tiny smile, taking the book from Derek's hands and placing it down as Derek lost the battle against his eyelids and fell asleep. 

~

He was steady enough to be doing this, though it felt like a trip home from the hospital that had his mate and he switching roles.

His cub was holding his hand, his mate's hand on his shoulder as they walked ahead of him. Being Alpha was to be strong and fierce and protective, not protected. Being human was to be strong sometimes, and weak sometimes; to be fierce sometimes, and docile others; to be protective and protected with family and friends surrounding you. He had understood, in an odd way, because being alone was what had brought his mate and he together. But his mate was not a wolf, in any part. His mate was a man. At least, he'd thought he was. But he'd also thought that there were times that his mate was more wolf than the other wolves could ever be, and maybe he'd been the Alpha's other half all along, with all the power just buzzing below the surface. 

He was home now. Safe now. And there was a new balance. A new fragility, but a new strength as well, because he was both a wolf and a man, and though as one or the other he could survive: it was with both that he could truly live. 

"Welcome back, sourwolf."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure zombie drug is an actual thing or just something I've stolen from Castle. I was half-tempted to throw in a further reference of Beckett and he, but the story didn't lead me that way, so I didn't force it. 
> 
> Derek didn't want to be there, didn't want to fight or kill, so the drugs were unfortunately necessary, and the violence was non-consensual in the one perpetrating it. 
> 
> Dog fighting would be my equivalent to this, and it's just as inexplicably stupid and gaggably disgusting. Dogs aren't the beasts, guys: their masters are, for making them that way.


End file.
